


our charred grace

by anomalousity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, M/M, instead of turning into a demon he turns into an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He rolls his neck and opens his eyes, completely blanching at the way they glow eerily white.</p><p>It’s really strange, like really fucking strange, how he can see everything. He walks down the street and spots lower level demons hoping to retain something of anonymity among humanity. He sees sickness in the elderly and teeming life thrumming in children’s stomachs.</p><p>For one thing, he knows when Sam’s got a boner before Sam does and teases the living hell out of him before he blushes and storms out of the room.</p><p>Yeah, Dean’s totally using this new ‘angel’ thing to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our charred grace

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to request something, contact me through [tumblr](http://buckybaarnes.co.vu/mssg).

He rolls his neck and opens his eyes, completely blanching at the way they glow eerily white.

It’s really strange, like really _fucking strange_ , how he can see everything. He walks down the street and spots lower level demons hoping to retain something of anonymity among humanity. He sees sickness in the elderly and teeming life thrumming in children’s stomachs.

For one thing, he knows when Sam’s got a boner before Sam does and teases the living hell out of him before he blushes and storms out of the room.

Yeah, Dean’s totally using this new ‘angel’ thing to his advantage.

He still hasn’t seen Cas yet; they’ve spoken over the phone and discussed it a little. Cas told him he’s something of a match to Michael at the wavelength he’s projecting through the receiver. Dean knows Cas would never admit the way his tone shifted into something like awe when he’d admitted that Dean’s probably next in line to attain the Holy Throne.

Dean pushes his hair back and stares at his chest, catching the swirling thing inside him. He knows it’s his humanity’s soul, which it still resides protected by the cosmic power resting just above his pancreas. He sees the scarring on his liver and the tissue damage on most of his internal organs, almost but not quite healed by his newfound abilities.

He’s learned a lot about his old life; first and foremost being that he was in the first stages of liver failure and that he’d probably had a good six months before he had to be hospitalized.

Hell, he’s also a hell of a lot smarter; he understands quantum physics like no one’s fucking business overnight and schools Sam in regurgitating facts about American statute. And British statute. And basically every country’s statutes. He’s been experienced with what he’s coined ‘zap travel’.

Mars is pretty fucking cool; Betelgeuse is freaking _awesome_.

He doesn’t understand why Castiel always seems to have a pole up his ass; knowledge and abilities is one thing, but together they are _everything._

So he stares at his bright eyes and grins at how he can spot his towering form confined to such a small body. He laughs at all the flaws which could be waved away with a mere thought; then he does it. Then he undoes it.

He’s so attentive to his body, so in tune with his wavelength and surveying his and Sam’s meager digs that he hardly notices the disturbance in the air, accompanied by the all too familiar scent of mountain air and Dean’s Old Spice, until a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Fu-” Dean starts, but when he spins, he shuts right up.

Castiel stares at him through wide grey-blue eyes, highlighted by the angel resting within the small container. Dean’s always thought Jimmy Novak’s body was a nice one; hell, he wouldn’t mind getting his hands on it if Cas was into that. But, _damn_ , he wasn’t seeing anything before.

The grace colors his features a delicate light green, shimmering on the edges and fraying out towards where the heart should be on a human body. He stares though bright white eyes, like Dean’s own, but they’re tinged with sorrow and guilt.

He reaches out instinctively, with his grace, and touches the hole where the heart isn’t.

“Dean,” Castiel breathes, greenish edges flaring a bright turquoise before the hole closes up to a small, soft blue shimmer. “Don’t.”

Dean retracts himself and takes a step back. All things considered, Cas looks good. At least, what he’s projecting through his human vessel looks good. Before this whole angelic business, he would’ve thought Cas was happy for the first time in months, but he sees it’s all a rouse.

Immediately chasing the urge, he asks, “What’s eating you?”

Cas tilts his head to the side, and Dean notices with an awkward clench in places that shouldn’t clench that his essence shimmers a little brighter at the gesture.

“Eating me?” he asks right back, wide white-blue eyes gazing up at Dean.

He shrugs. “I know that you’re upset about something.” When Cas turns an awkward shade of yellow, he knows it’s embarrassment. “Don’t be shy about that, for fuck’s sake. If something’s bothering you, tell me.”

Castiel’s grace shimmers a little weakly for a moment, as though debating how to react to Dean’s probing. After a moment, his shoulders slump and he brightens to a vibrant scarlet as his vessel blushes. “I thought you’d hate me,” he mumbles, and Dean almost misses it were it not for the way Castiel’s hand is tugging on the tail of his shirt.

Ah, fuck it. He drops a hand to Cas’s waist and leans his head against Cas’s. “Why the hell’d you think that, you moron?” It’s almost funny how quickly Cas goes lavender, but it’s so endearingly adorable, that Dean strokes his thumb over the jut of Cas’s hipbone.

“Because I’m no good, Dean.” He’s faced with the puppy eyes. Fucking great. “And you of all people should know that.”

“What, because you couldn’t stop evolution from happening?” Dean asks, incredulous. “I was going to change into an angel at some point, dude. Better this than the other option.”

He feels Castiel cringe and tosses his resolve aside when he slides his other hand up and between Castiel’s shoulder blades, tentatively stroking his own grace over Castiel’s wings. When Castiel makes an awkward squeak at the gesture, Dean pulls away, lifting a brow.

Castiel shifts on his feet a moment before ducking his head, a furious blush coloring his neck. “No one’s touched me like that.”

It takes Dean all of three seconds to place ‘no one’ with angels and ‘like that’ with romantically.

“Oh fuck, dude, I’m sorry.” Dean’s a fucking idiot; more of an idiot than he thought. He crosses the room and tucks his hands into his pockets. “I won’t do that again.”

Castiel mumbles something that Dean doesn’t quite catch, but his grace is all purple again and he’s blushing up something awful. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say the guy was fucking bashful.

“What was that?” he asks, pressing his luck. Cas won’t answer if he really doesn’t want to; he’ll probably zap off somewhere Dean would be able to find in a heartbeat but won’t because it’s Cas and he needs to give the guy his space if he wants it.

He mumbles again, but he can just make out, “Wouldn’t mind.”

Oh, that’s a surprise. He channels all of his energy into reading Castiel’s grace dilute and swirl around the little hole, pooling in the neck and over where the thighs would be located on a person. Castiel’s grace swirls into a deep sea green, only growing deeper when Dean wagers a step closer. Then another, and then another, until he’s reaching across the space between their bodies and touching the wing that protrudes.

 Castiel sighs and ducks into his touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and tucks his face against Dean’s neck. After a moment, something _amazing_ scrubs over his back and he has to reign in a moan at how damn good it feels when he realizes this is Cas and if he moans with Cas in his arms, he’s probably going to be in some deep shit.

Well, whatever. He moans a little.

“Fuck, Cas, what the hell are you doing and could you please do more of it,” Dean sighs, twisting his grace at the joint of Castiel’s wings and squeezing. Castiel bucks against him, lips parting in a gasp and Jesus, Dean’s still a little human and that shit still does things to him.

He continues rubbing at Castiel’s wings until the angel timidly pushes at his chest and takes a step back, his lips curling in a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, should probably go,” he says, white eyes wide and intent on Dean. He can feel them staring straight into his soul and bearing down on the angel he now is. “There are, um, groups to mobilize.”

He must spot something in Dean’s expression because his eyes widen and he raises a hand to stroke at Dean’s cheek. He leans into the touch almost subconsciously, only catching himself when Castiel pulls away.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can, Dean.” He looks at him with conviction in his eyes and blue teeming in his grace. Dean knows he isn’t just humoring him. After a moment, scarlet tinges the edges and his cheeks go a little peachy. With an almost-smirk he adds, “We can pick up where we left off then.”

Dean is about to say his goodbyes when Castiel disappears off to somewhere in central Vancouver. It’s only then that he realizes Cas all but propositioned him with a fucking smirk on his lips and a suggestive blush.


End file.
